Okay? I ask. Mouth full. He attempts a nod. More tears flow. He wipes them. I swallow. You are very delicious. Thank you, he squeaks. May I bite again? He doesn’t answer. I wait. May I? He wipes tears. Like he shouldn’t be crying. But he cries more. Not loud. Ghostlike. Heavy. Like his pain isn’t only from the bite. Like it’s deeper. Marrow deep.
